


Watching Cigarettes Burn Out

by ginwhitlock



Category: Twilight Series - All Media Types, Twilight Series - Stephenie Meyer
Genre: Based on a song, Burn Out, Descriptions of death and burning of bodies, Drabble, Jasper as the one who brings death to all, No the song isn’t time accurate bc this was a prompt given to me, Song fic, jasper as the major, jasper in 1930, jasper in Maria’s army, jasper smokes he just does man, smoking tw, to do a midlands song
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-06
Packaged: 2021-03-16 18:09:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28586265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ginwhitlock/pseuds/ginwhitlock
Summary: The silence is the only good part left
Comments: 1
Kudos: 4





	Watching Cigarettes Burn Out

**Author's Note:**

> This was a tumblr prompt I got sooooo long ago (I’m ginwhitlock on there too). Originally I made the song time accurate (this takes place in the 30s right before Jasper leaves Maria’s army) and then I remembered the prompt! Very me to forget such a thing. So... not time accurate. Whoops?

The air is cold tonight, an ice chest left open to the breeze. The ground is drying and golden under the moonlight, a rare storm having flown in a week before, fields of nothingness collapsing under the bath tub of water weight.

A soft flicker of something in the fair right acre of an abandoned farm plot bursts into the endless sky; on any other day in South Plains it would’ve been a cause for concern, but tonight was different. And every night after this would be too.

There was no one to see it.

No slack jawed rider on dusted horseback, no traveling preacher man raving on about the rapture. Just the open fields with their incombustible moist soil,

and him.

The man with the soft leather cowboy hat.

The man who does not speak.

The man with the fire.

_“ Watchin' cigarettes burn out_  
_'Til all the neon gets turned out_  
_I was so on fire for you it hurts, how_  
_Fast as a cigarette can burn out”_

Jasper Whitlock is older than he remembers and younger than he looks. The punctures along his spine and jawbone reek of sweat which is not his own, the slashes on his arms dirty with roots and their incomprehensible deeds. He looks like a weed standing out there, arms sat still by his side, long curling locks subtly shifting in the passing wind.

He wonders about nothing but how long they will burn for.

_“Had the world on a string_  
_And then I lost everything_  
_And that's how I wound up here”_

The bodies of discarded de-fanged warriors pop and sizzle in the onslaught of homemade lighter fluid and flint flames. Their ivory skin peels back in horror, marble bones disconnected and hissing as they finally crumble into ash. The Major taps a foot to a barely audible whistling out of his mouth, inches away from the decaying flesh. There’s a cigarette clasped between his front teeth, a cherry red stem hanging dangerously close to his thin lips. It’s igniter in front of him.

The world is quieter like this. No emotions to process when those around have their necks severed and turned to grey mush— at least that’s what he whispers to the silent crescent creating a halo around his monstrous skull.

_“If you put your hands on the flame_  
_You've got no right to complain_  
_'Cause you know it's gonna leave a mark”_


End file.
